Tuesday, March 29, 2005

HOW IT LOOKS FOR MY TEAM

Well, jeez, here I am again, just like every year. Not 30 minutes after we finish our Fantasy League draft, and already I’m going over my lineup and thinking if I ever get my brains blown out, it’ll probably be an improvement.

For one thing, I can’t believe I paid nine bucks for Dick Cheney. Especially when I probably could have gotten Carl Rove for like seven-fifty. But y’know, that’s just my philosophy: that you can’t field a serious political team unless you draft a real cutthroat bastard for your Puppet Master position. And Cheney, my God, he was born to play Puppet Master, some say the best since John Mitchell. The problem is, he carries the downside of being liable to drop over dead any time from a coronary--and there go your numbers. So you factor that in, and Rove looks like the bargain of the week.

But my problem with Rove is that he mainly plays out of love for the game, not for revenge. Give me a vindictive little weasel like the Chenster, with scores to settle. Anyway, other than those two, Bill Clinton was way overpriced at six bucks, and as for Ted Kennedy and Pat Robertson, don’t make me laugh. I could have snapped up Richard Mellon Scaife, but some players, even if they always do produce results, you just don’t feel good about having them on your team. It’s just a Ron Arteste Jason Giambi kind of thing, you know?

Then there’s my Big Mo pick. This is always a tough position to call, cause nothing is more dicey or fleeting than momentum. One day you’re tearing up the game, magazine cover material, and the next day you’re Bernie Kerik. Finito. I’ve seen guys take major baths paying seriously good money for “can’t miss” phenoms like McCain and Gingrich And older guys still talk about getting busted out on Gary Hart. (I’m not counting wise-asses like Tola here, who always fills his Big Mo position with Barney Frank just to be cute.)

On the other hand, of course, if you guess right, you can laugh your ass off, such as Pressman, who took Arnold Schwarzenegger in 2003 for a buck seventy-five because none of the rest of us could believe it. So maybe I should have gone to seven dollars on Condi Rice this time. But I think I’ll sleep a lot better with Alberto Gonzalez for a mere buck fifty. I see black robes in his future. Plus I like the hustle those latino players bring to the game. I’m rationalizing, I know, but whenever I feel bad about Alberto, I just think about Robertson paying two bucks for Porter Goss, and I feel a lot better. I mean, Porter freaking Goss?

I’m pretty solid at the Freak For Power position at least. Hillary! You go, girl! Let my esteemed rivals beat each other to death bidding up Tom DeLay, who won’t give you very good stats if he winds up benched by federal indictments, and Schwarzenegger, who could be just one good steroid relapse away from washed up. Maybe Scalia was worth Moore’s ten spot, but only if he moves up to Chief Justice; otherwise he only wins when Sandy O’Connor closes for him.

As for Rumsfeld, sober up. Bad enough he’s in the Cabinet, which has lately been only slightly better for your playing career than a head wound, but on top of that he’s putting up the worst numbers since Nixon. Shit, you don’t even know if his autographs are genuine! Rummy’s the kind of player that can take down a whole team.

Then there’s my Colorful Nutball. I don’t know, I could have taken Nader, a proven vet at the position, but but he hasn’t been an impact player since 2000. And Giuliani, even if he unretires, will probably come back in the Big Mo slot. I liked Al Sharpton, but not at three bucks given his current status, which is circus act.

There just isn’t much quality at Colorful Nutball right now. Ashcroft retired, Schwarzenegger got serious, Howard Dean’s more mascot than player--hell, there’s nobody at the position today who could carry Ross Perot’s jock! I mean, what does it tell you when Dennis Kucinich qualifies as colorful? We’re down to drafting mayors! I got Newsom, the San Francisco guy. I admit, he’s no Pat Buchanan, but at least he won’t embarrass me by never embarrassing me.

I probably shouldn’t even mention my Heavy Hitter. Call me a chump, but I think you’ll be hearing from Joe Biden, okay? Anyway, how dumb a pick can he be at half a buck? Especially compared to Dennis Hastert at four fifty, Bill Frist at six, and Rush Limbaugh at seven-seventy-five. Alan Greenspan I would have loved, but no way I could come up with thirteen bucks at the end.

Actually, I did have enough left to consider taking a fling at George Bush, but screw that. One, I think he’s been playing way over his head, and when his streak finally ends, I don’t want to be holding the bag. Two, I already got Cheney. And three, I mean, come on. Bush? I want to win, sure. But not that bad.

2 Comments:

Blogger ....J.Michael Robertson said...

Many of your readers probably think of you as a recluse, very nearly a hermit. But I have had the privilege of hearing you *perform* this piece, and it was quite wonderful. It was everything I could do to keep my wife from putting a twenty in the waistband of your jockey shorts.

April 3, 2005 at 11:29 AM  
Blogger B. Wieder said...

Should there be a next time, sir, I would ask you to keep your hands to yourself.

April 3, 2005 at 9:12 PM  

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